


Wanna hear something selfish?

by clovershot



Category: Half-Life
Genre: F/M, Just a little stream of consciousness thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24869578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovershot/pseuds/clovershot
Summary: As told by Alyx. Just a snapshot.In my headcannon, Eli makes a lot of soup after becoming a single father. I have no idea why.
Relationships: Gordon Freeman & Alyx Vance, Gordon Freeman/Alyx Vance
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Wanna hear something selfish?

Wanna hear something selfish?  
I don’t think I’d change anything. If someone gave me the choice to go back and fix it all.  
When I first met you, it would’ve been a no-brainer -- of course I would fix it. I’d have died to fix it. We almost did, both of us. But not anymore.  
Could you imagine it?  
I would be ten. You’d be over for dinner. Dad would be telling me all about how brilliant you are, about your latest projects. You’d smile, a little embarrassed, over your soup. And then Dad would tell you about all my latest accomplishments, about my grades and my ‘inventions’ and you’d have a big smile on your face while I hid my face in my hands, embarrassed, over my soup.  
You’d be in your 30s. Tall and thin and serious, except when you weren’t. Quiet and introspective, except when you weren’t. You’d stay up late after I was supposed to be in bed and you would talk with my dad, animated, voice scratchy but passionate.  
You’d complain about lack of funding and colleagues who were as dumb as dirt and my dad would show you patience and solidarity and share a few horror stories of his own. And when you couldn’t speak anymore you’d use your hands, and I’d have to imagine your half of the conversation, because of course, I’d be listening and watching from the top of the stairs. I would secretly try and learn sign language on my own, so I could send you messages across the dinner table. The first time I do it, you’d almost spit out your soup, and my dad would ask if you’re okay, and you would nod, and it would be our little secret.  
I’d probably grow up liking tall boys with hair like yours, and eventually men with beards like yours, although I probably wouldn’t put two and two together until I was much older. You’d have a drawing of mine in your office. You wouldn’t be a father figure, or an uncle, or a brother. Just Gordon. Gordon who works with my dad. Gordon who becomes a famous scientist. Yes, that Gordon. I’d go to your wedding, and everyone would be telling me I should call you Doctor Freeman, but I wouldn’t. We’d still send each other sign language messages.  
I might even have stayed with you when my dad had to go on business trips. I would love your messy apartment and the fact that you let me eat the really sugary breakfast cereals and you’d get so absorbed in your reading when you got back from work that you’d forget to tell me to go to bed. It would’ve been a happy childhood, with you in my life. We almost had that.  
But somehow, we’re here.  
You’re 28. I’m 26. Basically the same age. The universe stopped for you, but not for me. I grew up with you in my life, but in a different way. You symbolized so much. You stood for hope. For balance. For freedom. I spent half my life thinking you were a myth and the other half terrified of who you’d be when you got here. Would you want to help us? Should we even ask that of you, after everything you already did? What if you didn’t like me? Or you didn’t have any memories? Or the vortigaunts were lying? Or… the Combine killed you before you got a chance to help us fix everything?  
But you were more than I’d ever hoped for. I didn’t understand at first what exactly you were supposed to do, but the minute I helped you up off the ground in City 17, I knew something had been set in motion. And it’s been incredible. With your help, we’ve accomplished more in the last month than we have in 20 years. People are fighting back in ways they didn’t before, because they didn’t have any hope before.  
And even though you’re everything to these people… Only I get to see who you really are.  
Do you remember the first time we kissed? You had almost no power left in the HEV and were about to draw heavy fire just so one of our helicopters could get through. I didn’t want you to go. I thought you were going to get yourself killed. I kept pulling on your arm saying, “There has to be another way!” and you signed something to me, repeatedly, something I didn’t understand. It was too loud for you to talk. I got frustrated and batted your hands out of the air. “Stop it, Gordon!  
Why are you doing this? You don’t have to--” and then, you kissed me. And time stopped. The bullets faded away, the threat seemed a little less dire, and you were standing there, confident and strong and pulling me as close as you could. You were terrified, I could tell, but you were going to go out there anyway. And then you were gone. And I was stunned.  
And before I knew it, the shooting stopped and the helicopter landed and I was helping you get inside. Two bullets had pierced your calf and the suit hadn’t been able to stop them, and a manhack had ripped the skin on your shoulder. You were covered in blood, but later, they would tell me the injuries were mostly superficial and you’d be fine. But as we limped you inside, you were losing your battle with consciousness as the adrenaline wore off and the morphine kicked in and the blood loss wasn’t helping either. And your head rested on my shoulder the whole way back to the base. I had my hand in yours, keeping track of your pulse. You mumbled things in your drugged up sleep, but I couldn’t understand anything. But I kept talking to you, just to let you know I was still there.  
And later, when I couldn’t sleep. Because we’d spent almost two weeks with our backs against each other at night, you covering the door of whatever broken down hovel we were in, me covering the window. I’d tried putting my back up against the wall, but it didn’t work. I tossed and turned until almost dawn, when I finally got up the nerve to go find you. It was maybe 4:30 in the morning, and you were sitting on the edge of your bed, testing the weight you could put on your injured leg. You looked startled when I pushed the door open. I was startled too; I hadn’t expected you to be awake. We stayed like that for a minute or so, until you took in my messy hair and robe and checked your watch. I didn’t even have to say anything. You laid back down in the bed backed all the way to the edge, motioning me to join you. I did.  
As soon as I felt my back against yours, all of the tension in my bones melted away. Your steady breathing almost had me drifting off, when I remembered that you’d been trying to stand up when I got there. “Where were you going?” I’d said, whispering in case you were already out. You weren’t. “Your room. Couldn’t sleep.” I giggled a little, and so did you. 

(end)


End file.
